Pictures of You
by Sir Gawaine
Summary: AKA Four Times Jo Took A Photograph Of A Colleague and One Time Someone Took One Of Her.


**A/N – I haven't forgotten about 'Snapshots', I just suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to write this. It's been in the contemplation stage for a long time and I just needed to get it down before the inspiration abandoned me.**

_**i**__._

The student's union bar was half the reason Jo had chosen her uni, much to her mum's disgust, and she was pleased as anything when she managed to land herself a job there in her second term. The hours were flexible and the pay was alright, especially for a job that meant she could roll out of bed seven minutes before her shift started and still be there early. By the end of her third year, she was still working there and soon was the longest serving member of staff apart from the manager.

"You staying next year to do your masters, darling?" Sarah asked one day, application forms from eager new first years in hand.

"Yep," Jo nodded, "I got the confirmation last night. And I'll keep the job too, if that's alright."

"I'm counting on it, lovely," the manager nodded, brandishing the sheaf of applications, "The whole lot of my damn staff is abandoning me apart from you. It's as though you people were just here until you got a degree or something."

Jo laughed, putting the glass she was polishing back on the shelf and taking another one. Sarah liked to complain a lot but she was really the most relaxed person Jo had ever met. Something small like the replacement of her entire staff wouldn't even begin to phase her.

"I think I've got them all picked out," Sarah carried on, perched now on the edge of the bar, "I'm going to invite them all in tonight for a drink, to see which ones I hate and never want to see again."

"Do you want me here?" Jo asked, "I can be, if you want."

"Of course. I need another sensible grown up to help me. And you're on polaroid duty, anyway."

"Great," Jo grinned, "I love polaroid duty."

Sarah refused to give anyone a permanent position before they had submitted to wearing a silly hat of her choosing and pulled the silliest pose they could in a photograph that would be placed for the length of their employment on the pinboard she kept hanging behind the bar. She said it made people take themselves less seriously, when they had to wear a giant penis or a penguin or an Easter Bunny on their heads. Jo glanced up at the pinboard now, empty apart from her own photograph; she was wearing a Smurf of all things, like a full sized Smurf, and pouting at the camera. The photo was old now, folding a little at the edges, but it had the right effect – it always cheered her up when she saw it.

"What kind of hats do we have for tonight?" she asked eagerly, "Please tell me the reindeer is back? I don't think Aaron ever got over that one."

"Tonight I have a brand new one," Sarah said confidentially, "And it is utterly disgusting. Like, so disgusting I can't even believe shops are allowed to sell it. You're going to love it. Be back at seven and bring your camera."

"Can't wait."

_**ii.**_

Ed had been acting strangely for days, disappearing to 'meet a source' and being gone for hours, and then lying about why he was gone so long. Normally Jo would have left him to it – it was his own business of course – but last week, _The London Source _had beaten them to a story that they had all been sure they had the scoop on and no one had been able to work out where the leak had come from.

If she had suspected any other colleague, she would have gone to Ed. He was her superior, after all, and that was the chain of command. As it was, she felt a little out of water; she was in no way convinced enough that he was up to something that she felt she could take it to the big boss himself, but she also felt like Ed was doing something that was likely to cause them all some trouble.

So, on a rainy Wednesday, she made a split second decision when Ed came over to tell them he was going out. She let him go and then, grabbing her coat, she followed him. There was a slight moment of panic when he looked like he was going to get a taxi, because she imagined she would lose him, but then he turned and headed towards the park instead, his hood pulled up against the rain. Jo followed at a distance but Ed had no inclination that anyone would be after him, and he didn't look around. They walked across the whole park, to a small café on the other side that Jo had never visited before. He went in and Jo, thankful for the awning that stuck out the front of the café, took shelter and peered carefully in the window.

Ed had joined a woman at a table in the back of the room, his back to the door. Keeping her hood up, Jo went inside and ordered a takeaway coffee, standing so that she could see what was happening between them. She didn't recognise the woman but she saw well enough when Ed took a USB stick from his pocket. Jo had her phone out and, on impulse, she tilted it just enough so that she got a photo of Ed handing over the stick to the woman and then another one of the woman handing him a small brown envelope.

"We'll get you in, Ed," she was saying, so quietly that Jo had to strain to hear her, "You've been too helpful for the boss to turn you down now."

Grabbing the coffee that she was handed, Jo shoved her phone in her pocket and beat a hasty retreat from the café. She couldn't believe it. Ed, of all people, was the leak. Ed, who was so sweet, who worried about all of his young charges like a mother bear, was the one who had betrayed them. Jo felt sick and the march back to the office through the freezing cold park did not help.

There was only one thing she could do, with those photos on her phone, and she did not like the idea of it one little bit.

_**iii.**_

It had been a terrible idea really, to go out for the night when she had just come off a long shift and had one the next day, but she hadn't seen her university friends in so long and this was the only time they were all in London for what looked like at least the next four months.

They'd had a lovely dinner and then hit the clubs, and Jo's feet were killing her because somehow she had also thought it was a good idea to wear the heels she had bought last month but not had a chance to wear yet.

She was also drunk and she had to be awake in four hours.

It had been an evening of poor decision making and she would do it all again.

She stumbled from the taxi and managed to get her key in the front door on only the second attempt, saving her the jeers of her friends who were waiting in the taxi to see that she got inside alright. The hall light was off but a half light was spilling out of the lounge and she realised Zaf must still be awake. He did that on nights when she went out, waited up for her to make sure that she came home safely. It was so sweet that she hadn't the heart to tell him she was a grown woman who had been successfully living alone for several years without dying.

She slipped her shoes off, groaning as her feet adjusted, and padded through to the lounge.

The TV was flickering in the background, the volume low, some old episode of one of the panel shows that seemed to be repeated on endless loops and which Zaf never got tired of watching. The man himself was curled up the sofa, one of Jo's many cushions tucked under his head, another held tightly in his arms, and he was fast asleep. He'd had a long day too, Jo remembered, reaching into her bag for her phone. He'd had a long day and it had never even occurred to him to go to bed until she came home. She felt a thrill of something unidentifiable, unable to recall exactly what she had done to deserve the devotion he gave her but grateful for it anyway. She loved him so much. He was the best friend she had ever had.

She snapped a sneaky photograph of him, so peaceful looking in his sleep, and then reluctantly went to wake him. His head was in an awkward position and he would ache in the morning.

"Zaf," she murmured, shaking him gently, "Zaf, wake up. I'm home."

He muttered something and tried to turn over, and when he couldn't, he seemed to start suddenly into wakefulness. His eyes were soft and unfocused for the briefest of moments and then he seemed to see her and he sat up.

"Jo?" he said, taking the hand she offered to pull him up, "What's the time?"

"Just gone three. I just got back."

His hand was warm and when he was standing, he didn't let her go. Jo was happy to hold on.

"Was I asleep?" he asked, so annoyed at himself, and between his grumpy face and his messy bed hair, he looked so adorable that Jo almost leaned in to kiss him. Almost.

"You were. And now you need to again, and so do I. Come on."

He allowed himself to be lead to his bedroom and only then did he let go of her hand.

"Good night?" he asked, "With the girls?"

"Great," Jo nodded, "I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Go to sleep now."

"Deal."

_**iv.**_

"Come on," Jo said impatiently, practically dragging Adam behind her, "You have to have a drink on your birthday. It's tradition."

"Says who?" Adam grumbled, but he sped up a little and walked besides her.

"Says me. I want to buy you a drink and it's rude to say no."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"Alright, one drink. Fiona is waiting for me at home."

"One drink."

Fiona was not at home. She was in _The George _with the rest of the team, gathered for Adam's birthday surprise. Jo had been tasked to get him there, a decision made by Harry who said it would look the least suspicious if Jo was the one. She took that as a compliment and played the wide eye innocent when Adam had given her a dubious look.

She stepped into the pub and spotted the team in the corner. Adam, ever Mr Observant, saw them immediately as well and swore, a huge smile on his face. Fiona came over and kissed him, giggling at the look he gave her.

"Did you really have no idea?"

"Nope," he grinned, wrapping one arm around her and one around Jo, "Thank you."

The alcohol was flowing already and Adam dived in willingly, accepting a hug from Ruth and Zaf, manly handshakes from Harry, Malcolm and Colin. A beer was pushed into his hand and Jo was given a glass of wine and after that, she kind of lost track of time. By the time the landlord was calling time, everyone was a little worse for wear, even Malcolm, and Ruth was calling taxis for everyone. Jo sat beside her and watched the others; Malcolm and Colin arguing good naturedly about something no one understood, Zaf in the middle of a vicious game of darts with the barmaid. Harry sat slightly apart, his last whisky in his hand, and his eyes on Ruth, and Adam and Fiona were tucked in the corner. She was curled under his arm, one hand on his cheek, and he was whispering to her and they looked so happy that Jo wanted them to see.

She took out her phone and took a photograph, resolving to text it to Fiona in the morning. Next to her, Ruth threaded an arm through hers and smiled.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" she murmured, nodding to Adam and Fiona.

"Yeah," Jo whispered, "Yeah, they are."

_**+1.**_

She was propped up in bed when Ben came back with the coffee that he had promised. His room was nice, not quite the room of a grown up yet, but then neither of them were grown-ups, not really. Electrical gadgets covered his chest of drawers, papers covered his desk and she noticed for the first time, one of the walls was covered in sketches.

He caught her eying them curiously when he came back and looked away shyly when she asked him.

"It's just a hobby," he said, handing her a coffee and going over to the gallery. He selected a few carefully and brought them over to the bed so she could see.

They were brilliant; quick sketches he must have made of people on the Tube, more in depth ones that she guessed were of his family, even a few in colour although he admitted he was less comfortable with colours than just with a pencil.

"These are great, Ben," she shook her head, "You should share them."

He shook his own head and sat next to her, sipping from his coffee.

"This is just for me. I don't let people see very often."

"Well, I'm honoured," she stacked them carefully and put them on the bedside table. He smiled softly and leaned over, kissing her gently, just a quick brush across her lips.

"Can I draw you?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," she blushed, "We don't have time now though. I need to get to work."

"I know," he said, reaching behind him and taking his phone in his hand, "But I want you to look just like this. Let me take a picture, then I'll remember."

She blushed again, aware that she looked a right mess and no amount of him saying anything else would convince her otherwise. Then again, he was the artist, so whatever he wanted.

He didn't even give her time to pose, just snapped it quickly when she must have been looking thoughtful and then he kissed her again, before calling dibs on the shower and disappearing next door.

Jo settled back with her coffee, laughing, and took up the stack of drawings again. He really was something else.


End file.
